Destiny's Guard
by Do Wop
Summary: Part two of Tales of Destiny. Years after Giygas was defeated, a war was fought and a war was lost, leaving behind Jeff Andonuts as the only surviving member of the Chosen Four.
1. Chapter 1

The wall sentries of Alma Stronghold peered over the tops of the walls at the man standing on the ground below. They weren't sure what to make of him. He seemed wholeheartedly out of place in the decayed urban landscape. His long grey coat was clean, and they could see a meticulously groomed suit below that. His hair was tousled, but that was the only trace of disorder about him. The sunlight glinted off his sunglasses as he stared up at them intently. At last, one of the more impatient sentries raised his rifle to his shoulder, sighted, and fired a single round. It impacted at the stranger's feet with a loud _crack_. The stranger glanced down at it momentarily before returning his gaze to the wall.

"All right, you!" the sentry who had fired the shot yelled down, "Unless you've got some business here, bugger off before I put a bullet through you!" The man standing below paused a moment before responding.

"Is this the residence of one Rodney Milliar?" He asked.

"The boss? Yeah, he lives here. You want something with him?"

"I do. Go get him for me, will you?"

There was the sound of people moving around on the wall above, and then a large, angry face covered in scars poked above the battlements.

"Are you Rodney Milliar?" the man on the ground asked simply.

"Yeah, that's me." The man on the wall responded. "What do you want?"

"It has come to my attention that you have two young girls, ages thirteen and sixteen, names Sarah and Jessica Dobson, held captive within your fortress. They were captured when your group of rogues ambushed the supply convoy they were travelling with. You will release them into my custody or I will come in after them." he said all this emotionlessly, as if going through a formality that he cared little for.

Rodney's face contorted with puzzlement. "What makes you think we'll do any such thing? They're such nice girls-we're having quite a lot of fun with them." He leered, and the sound of raucous laughter erupted from the sentries.

"You have three hours, Mr. Milliar. After that, I take matters into my own hands." The stranger said with a sense of finality. Rodney stepped away from the battlements.

"This guy's got stones, I'll give him that." he said quietly to his sentries. "Kill him. If he's still standing there in five minutes time, he'd damn well have better killed all of you." And then he walked away.

He was halfway down the steps when gunfire exploded behind him.

-----------------------------------------------

"Please go away!" Jessica begged through the door. She and her younger sister had barricaded it with what little furniture they had, but the man outside was strong and was pushing right through it. "Haven't you hurt us enough?"she pleaded.

Whoever was outside did not reply, but instead redoubled his efforts. The girls tried to hold the door closed, but the doorframe splintered and broke, and the door swung open, knocking both girls over. Sarah, the younger, let out a cry of fear and cowered against her older sister as a large man stepped through the threshold to stand over them. However on his face was neither the enraged nor the lusty expression she had been expecting. Instead, behind his square sunglasses his face was impassive, revealing neither anger nor joy.

"Sarah and Jessica Dobson?" he asked them. They nodded dumbly. "I was sent by your father. I will be taking you to him now. Here, put these on," he said, tossing a sack of clothing to land on the ground in front of them, "They're the clothes you were captured with. I'm sure your captors preferred the clothes they chose for you, but I doubt your father will be as appreciative."

Jessica reached into the bag, and pulled out her shirt, a plain pink T-shirt with _The Onett Sluggers_ written across the chest. Below that was a simple logo of baseball bat smashing some strange red blob. She'd never been able to work out what the logo meant. After a quick look up to make sure they had privacy-their rescuer had politely turned around and now stood facing away from them, hands clasped firmly behind his back-the girls stripped off the disgusting outfits their captors had forced upon them and slipped their old clothes back on.

"Finished." Jessica said as she straightened her shirt. Their mysterious savior turned and gave them one look, as if to confirm that all was well, and then turned and walked out of the room, gesturing for them to follow.

Nothing could have prepared them for the sight that greeted them as they were led out of the building they had been held hostage in and out into the courtyard. There were bodies strewn all over, and blood everywhere.

"Did you...did you do this?"Sarah asked, looking out over the carnage. Their rescuer did not reply, but instead stood facing forward, staring stolidly at the battlefield. After a moment, he spoke.

"Stay here," he told them. "I have some unfinished business."

He walked away from them towards a nearby wall. The man whose body lay slumped against the it seemed to be dead until the stranger approached, and then the head lifted weakly. The man was bleeding out from a wound in his gut. As his head lifted, his face came into view, and both girls gasped as they recognized him. It was Rodney Milliar, leader of the bandits.

"Rodney Milliar," the man said, "You are accused of the abduction of two young ladies and committing unspeakable crimes upon them, along with your gang of miscreants. Justice has already been rendered upon them. You have been kept alive so that these young ladies are able to face their assailant. Do you have anything to say in your defence?" He sounded like he was reciting from an old legal textbook or speaking in a court. There was a formal, almost legalistic inflection to his voice.

Rodney did not say anything, but rather looked up at him weakly. The man said "Good," and suddenly there was a gun in his hand. In a swift and fluid motion he crouched down and pressed the gun into Rodney's face. Now that he was in a position where the girls could not see his face, the impassive expression suddenly vacated and was replaced with one of deep anger. He tapped his left ear with his free hand, and then spoke in a voice too soft to be heard by the girls.

"Cochlear implants, Mister Milliar. I am not an idiot. I could hear every word you were saying up on that wall." Rodney made a sound that fell somewhere between a whimper and pleading, but the man just shook his head. "Sorry, Mister Milliar, but you were given an opportunity to resolve this bloodlessly, and you didn't take it. And now you're going to die. Actually," he said as he pulled back the hammer on his pistol, "the only reason you stayed alive as long as you did was because I thought those girls deserved to face their assailant and see him get what he had coming. It would be them over here pulling the trigger if I didn't think they'd already been through enough without having your death on their conscience."

The man stood once more, and pressed the barrel of his gun into the man's forehead. "Look at it this way." He said, "After what you did to those girls, you should just be counting your blessings I don't believe in taking an eye for an eye." Then he pulled the trigger.

After he finished cleaning his gun and coat of blood and brains, he turned to the two girls. "Follow me." he said, then walked towards the hole he had made in the wall. They hesitated only a moment before following.

The walked several blocks through the rubble of the city, the stranger walking in front, the girls a few steps behind. Suddenly, he stopped, and held up a hand, telling them to do the same. He stood with his head cocked, as if he was listening to something. Jessica was trying to gather the courage to ask him if everything was all right when he turned to face them.

"You need to leave. Now. Your father's men are waiting for you. Go on for two more blocks, then turn right and go three more."

"Why aren't you coming with us?" Sarah asked, bewildered.

"Can you hear that?" Their rescuer asked, tapping his left ear. Sarah and Jessica both listened hard but could hear nothing but the sound of their breath. They both shook their heads. "Well, I can." He said. "It's no longer safe to travel with me. Get moving. Tell your father that we'll settle accounts later."

He turned away from them as they scurried out of sight. They would be perfectly safe, he knew. What was coming wanted only him. The sound was growing gradually louder as its source came closer and closer. It was a humming sound, a low buzzing that was rapidly becoming louder.

It was the sound of engines.

The man did not move as an object slammed into the ground to his right. It was followed by five others, forming a circle around him.They impacted with such force that the pavement cracked, and clouds of dust thrown up into the air. As the dust settled, the shape of six silvery Starmen came into view. They spoke as one, their voices cold and robotic:

"Geoffrey Andonuts, you are in violation of Control Act 27B/6. Stand down and submit to detainment or face immediate termination."


	2. Chapter 2

Jeff moved immediately.

One signal sent through one of the many implants in his skull triggered a mechanism hidden beneath his coat. There was a brief whirring, and then, impossibly, a shotgun flew out from beneath the coat's folds, as if fired from a cannon. Jeff's right hand caught it by the grip as it flew past, and fired. The computer in his head automatically adjusted his aim, and the Starman in front of him flew backwards, his shield a mass of fizzling blue. The shotgun couldn't penetrate that shield, but it could still push on it.

The other Starmen fired their beams the instant the shotgun went off, but they were too late; Jeff was already spinning away. Instead, their beams intersected at the point where he had stood and struck the chest of the Starman directly behind him. It's shield held for a moment, then buckled under the stress of five beams and the Starman fell to the ground, everything above the waist now molten slag.

Jeff was moving again, this time to the side, his left hand coming about to work the slide. He ejected the shell, and fired again. This time his target took off into the air, its computer adjusting to this change in the situation. The Starman at the other end of the formation took off too, and they circled in a symmetrical pattern before diving towards him. The other two advanced, beams firing, as the one he had shot began pulling itself off the ground.

He fired off one more shot before retreating, dancing over the spray of energy that the three on the ground were unleashing at him. He leapt over a large pile of rubble and crouched behind it, hearing the beams impacting on the rubble's surface. He returned his shotgun to its hiding place beneath his long coat. It wasn't going to do him any more good.

He turned to the largest chunk of rubble he was hiding behind, and got a good grip on it. Servomotors in his arms and legs whirred as his enhanced muscles strained to lift it. He swung it about, then hurled it towards the two soaring towards him. They fired a barrage of shots, breaking the rubble into pieces and shattering it, but were surprised to see Jeff suddenly flying past the rubble and into their midst.

The boulder had hidden his leap until he was upon them; now it was too late for them. The arm containing their beam cannon tried to track forwards, but he seized each and twisted them away. The beams cut long furrows into the side of buildings. He twisted the arms until he felt something break in the beam mechanisms, and then he released them and siezed what passed for a neck on these misshapen robots. As they fell, he pulled them in front of his body like a shield.

The two on the ground were quick to retarget him, and as he fell they unleashed a devastating barrage of bolts. The shots tore Jeff's metal shield to pieces, but left him untouched. He fell into their midst, riding a ball of burning wreckage. He sent a signal to his gun belt once more and suddenly he held a pair of pistols.

He landed heavily between them, the servos in his legs absorbing most of the impact. His arms snapped out, firing his pistols at the metal men. They reoriented their weapons on him, but he danced between their shots, the computer in his head guiding him. He spun about, still firing, until at last both fell apart, perforated by the other's beams. That left only one to deal with.

Unfortunately, as there was only one left, there were no others to trick into shooting it. It was now on its feet and advancing on him, firing with chilling precision. Jeff stepped to the right, twisting his body to avoid the shots, and fired his remaining bullets at the Starman. Not one of them penetrated its shield. Sighing resignedly, Jeff returned the empty guns to his gun belt and drew his Gaia Beam.

The first shot sheared off the machine's gun arm. The second took off the other. The last cut it in two at the waist. He could have destroyed it with one shot to the CPU, but he wanted it alive a little while longer. He walked over to his fallen, disabled foe, and pointed his Gaia Beam at it's face. Well, where its face would be if there was more than a sensory strip, anyways.

"I know you can all hear me through this unit, so listen up, and listen carefully. I fought in the war. I lost. I'm not interested in fighting it again. I'm not part of some underground resistance, I'm not scheming to take your empire down, I'm not going to cause you any problems as long as you leave me alone. But I swear before whatever's left of God that if you cause me trouble, all that will change. I will become the biggest damn thorn you've ever had stuck in your paw. So leave me the hell alone." And with that he fired, shutting the unit down for good.

Crouching on the ground, Jeff inspected the power meter on his Gaia Beam. _Damn, empty. That last shot must have been the last of it. Oh well,_ he thought,_ I can get it charged back up when I get back home._ He returned it to his gun belt, then signalled for his ride. An engine roared down the street, and a white motorcycle pulled out of an alleyway and pulled to a stop behind him. He straddled it, then took off to the west.


	3. Chapter 3

"Deactivation code Epsilon-Tau-Tau-Alpha."

The automated cannons that protected his home withdrew into the structure of the building. They couldn't be detected when withdrawn, but when deployed they could probably hold off an army of Starmen, at least until the power ran out. The doors cracked open with the hiss of hydraulics. He stepped inside and palmed the panel on the inside. The doors slid back into place behind him, and the lights came up around him.

His house was actually a converted Mobile Fortress left over from the war. It was no longer quite so mobile, having crashed years ago with its engine smashed beyond repair, but its hull was intact and its generators still gave enough power to fuel the weapons, even after his modifications, and provide power for his living space.

He places his coat onto a hook and dropped his sunglasses on the table. He reached around his back and unclipped his gunbelt. It was no mere belt and holster, but rather a complex mess of wires and metal. There were no guns to be seen at all.

"Computer, dim lights and play music track 225." The lights came down, and the soft jazz tones of the Runaway Five began filtering through the speakers as he stepped into the next room. He threw himself down onto the couch and leaned backwards, soaking in the sound of the music.

"Geoffrey Andonuts?"

Jeff whirled about, slapping a hand on his gun belt. Instantly a revolver was in his hand. As he reoriented, his targeting computer belatedly recognized the presence of a figure standing behind the couch and locked on to him.

"Who the hell are you? How did you get inside my home?"

"My name is Mahna, and how I got in is of no importance. That gun is unnecessary. Please put it away."

Jeff rose to his feet, keeping the gun pointed at the intruder. "What do you want?"

"Only to talk. I have a job for you."

Jeff considered this for a moment. "Computer. Scan individual designate 'Mahna' for weapons." There was a quiet whirring for a moment, then a low electronic voice declared the scan complete with no findings. Jeff casually tossed his gun onto his belt. At the last moment, right before contact, the gun shrank down to miniscule size and vanished into a small compartment.

"You know, there's ways of contacting me besides breaking into my home and scaring the shit out of me." Jeff said casually. "So, what have you got for me? Damsel in distress? Bandits raiding homesteads? Rampaging beasts?"

"I need you to retrieve a package. In exchange for taking this job, you will recieve-" Mahna was cut off by Jeff bursting out in laughter.

"Oh...I'm afraid you've misinterpreted the nature of my little service. I am not a hitman, nor an errand boy or a soldier for hire. If you have somebody I can save, give me a ring. If you just want to waste my time trying to get me to do favors for you, take it somewhere else."

"I do not think you understand." Mahna said, walking slowly around the couch. "The contents of this package are not for my gain, but rather for the gain of all. Things have been knocked askew, and only you can set them right."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let me show you." The tall man said, reaching forward and taking Jeff's temples between his palms. Jeff tried to pull back, but before he could there was a burst of light _and suddenly Jeff was running in Burglin Park, a football clutched tightly against his chest. Around his legs more than a dozen children yelled and clambered, trying to bring him down. One small hand hooked his left leg, and he went tumbling down. He could have kept his feet easily, but let them bring him down. Small bodies crawled over his prone form, as he futilely tried to keep the ball out of their hands. After a minute he surrendered, laughing, and let them take it away. They cheered and ran off, beginning a new game. He laughed again and sat up, watching them run and frolic. He stood once more, brushing dirt and grass off of his pants. A beautiful woman was walking towards him, and he turned to embrace her. One hand went to her belly, and he could feel beneath his palm the pulse and flow of a new life_ _growing. Soon they would-_

"Enough!" roared Jeff as he raised his arms to push Mahna's away. "I'll have no more of your false visions!" Mahna took two steps backwards.

"If you do as I ask you, they will no longer be false. Completing this task will bring them back into reality once more."

"That's impossible!" Jeff yelled. "The war destroyed too much! Even if we did somehow get rid of the Starmen, Burglin park is _gone_, just like the rest of Twoson. There's nothing left! And as for her-"

"It is as you say. Regardless, do the job I give you and what you saw will come true."

Jeff glared at him. Mahna returned his gaze impassively. After a moment, Mahna reached into his coat and produced an envelope.

"The choice is of course yours. If you do decide to help, you will find instructions in this envelope. I take my leave of you." He tossed the envelope onto the couch, and then began to fade. Before Jeff's eyes he grew more and more indistinct, and then vanished completely. Jeff stepped forward and fanned the air where Mahna had been standing with his hand, just in case, but there was nothing there.

"Huh."

Jeff picked up the envelope and ripped it open. It certainly couldn't hurt to see what the man had wanted him to do-

Jeff's train of thought stopped as his eyes settled on the package's location.

"Oh, christ."


	4. Chapter 4

Jeff's ribs, like the rest of his skeleton, were artificially fortified. Completely coating the bones in metal was, obviously, impractical and would rob them of the ability to bend. But he'd found that plating one side gave it extra strength without impairing their functionality.

The tricky part was the surgery. He could do the legs himself, with the help of a very powerful local painkiller, but the chest would be awkward and the arms all but impossible, to say nothing of the skull. It took him weeks to perfect the Surgery Bots to the point where he would trust them with his body. The result was a skeleton that could survive getting hit with a piledriver without more than a few cracked ribs.

Despite all of his efforts, though, the bear hug Tony gave Jeff when he saw him still hurt like anything.

"It's so good to see you, buddy!" Tony roared loudly as he set Jeff down. "How the hell are you doing?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Save some merchant's daughters here, get attacked by Starmen there. Nothing I can't handle. How about yourself? I stopped keeping tabs on your movement a while back; how have you guys been doing?"

"We're surviving. Keeping people out of the way of raids, giving them some back wherever we can. Of course we could do a lot more if you'd come back to us."

"Not happening, Tony. I don't want to sound defeatist, but we already lost. I can do more good helping the people than I can dying trying to vainly turn the tide."

Tony's face sobered somewhat, and his hand came up to stroke his thick beard. "Yeah, well. Someone's got to keep the fight going."

He cheered up again as they stepped into the base's bar. Tony ordered two beers, and set set one in front of Jeff.

"So, if you aren't here to re-enlist, what brings you to our fair base?" he asked as he pried the top off of his bottle. Jeff deliberately waited until he was in mid-swallow before answering.

"I need you to get me inside Tower One."

As expected, Tony spewed his drink all over the table. Jeff grinned as Tony wiped the drink off his face.

"This is a joke, right?" Tony asked as he wiped the last bit of beer off his chin.

"No joke, Tony. There's something in there that I need to get at, and you guys were able to get me in once before."

"Jeff...we got in there once, all right. We went in with twenty people, and left with two. You and me. And even that was a very near thing."

"I was there, Tony, I don't need a history lesson," Jeff said, waving one arm dismissively. "But I need to get in there again, and I figured you guys might be able to give me a hand."

"What the hell's in there that's so important?" Tony asked.

"Honestly? I have no idea."

He told Tony everything. About the mysterious intruder, about the visions, about his offer. As he spoke, the look of skepticism on Tony's face deepened and deepened, until it seemed to Jeff that the corners of Tony's mouth were going to fall off his face and onto the floor. When Jeff had finished, Tony asked to see the letter, and Jeff gladly passed it over.

"I don't get it," Tony said as he looked it over. "You won't join us because you think we have no hope, but you'll go get yourself killed on the word of a wierd guy and a hallucination? Why?"

"It's not like that, Tony. It's just that...you don't understand the Starmen. They are _machines_, with all that implies. They don't make mistakes, and if they do miscalculate they won't do it again. They're perfectly coordinated. And it's not like fighting a human occupation force, because they won't become decadent or corrupt or even get lazy. As soon as they've got more firepower than you do, they win. It's not possible to beat them. You guys are just too outgunned. Even if Ness and Paula were still with us, we couldn't do it. That train's long since left the station."

"And your solution is?" Tony asked, handing the letter back to Jeff, "Just give up? Bury your head in the sand and go chasing after pipedreams? What in the hell makes you think this Mahna fellow is on the level?"

"I don't know that he is," Jeff admitted as he put the letter back into the pocket of his coat, "but look at where his package is. _Tower Fucking One_. The most secure installation in the Starmen Empire-probably the whole damn world. If the Starmen had some sort of weapon that we could use to turn this war around, that's where it would be held. You don't have a chance fighting like this, but if there is something in that Tower, then all the odds change. We could win. Some chance is better than none, after all."

Tony thought on that for a while. "I can't give you any men, you know," he said, looking down at the table. "We're stretched out way too thin as it is, and they didn't do an awful lot of good last time anyways."

"I wasn't asking for men," Jeff replied, taking a drink of his beer. "I just need information. A way in, and a way out."

"Well, a way out might be tricky," Tony said as he considered it. "But I think we can get you a way in." They were interrupted by one of the soldiers stumbling drunkenly over to their table, glaring at Jeff.

"What the hell're you doin' here?"

"Go home, Strong, you're drunk." Tony ordered sternly.

"Filthy fuckin' deserter, I'da killed you myself if I'd been there."

"Stand down and go home, Strong. That's an order!"

"You've got a lot of fucking nerve to show your face around here, you pansy-ass son of a bit-"

He stopped short as a gun appeared in Jeff's hand, pointing under his chin.

"I'm just enjoying a beer with an old friend. Do you have some problem you'd like to discuss with us?" he asked cooly. Strong backed up quickly and fled the bar. Jeff returned the pistol to his belt.

"Now, I _know_ you weren't wearing that piece when you walked in here," Tony said, leaning back. "Want to share?"

"It's actually pretty simple," Jeff said, pulling his coat open to show his gun belt. "The belt dimensionally compresses my guns, then decompresses and sends them flying out when I signal." Tony whistled softly.

"So, it shrinks them?"

"No, no...they're the same size. They just take up less space now."

There was a momentary pause in the conversation.

"That's as sensible an explanation for it as I'm going to get out of you, isn't it?" Tony asked.

"Pretty much."

"Alright, then, let's talk getting you into Tower One."


End file.
